


The Boy Scout and the Amazing Asshat

by NervousAsexual



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Steve has depression issues, Tony has anxiety issues, Unrequited Crush, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 23:05:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11542299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NervousAsexual/pseuds/NervousAsexual
Summary: Things were bad enough when he was just awkwardly crushing from afar. Now Tony has really screwed up.





	The Boy Scout and the Amazing Asshat

**Author's Note:**

> I legitimately have no idea where this came from. I don't ship Stony. I've never seen an Avengers, Captain America, or Iron Man movie all the way through. I think I saw half an episode of Avengers Assemble one time. God help us all.

There was a ramping up to his realization.

It started out just an amusing sing-song joke. Steve is a virgin! Ha-ha!

Then he stopped to really think about what that meant. Then it was, Holy shit. Steve's a virgin.

Next thing he knew he was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about how (oh my god) Steve is a virgin.

It made him feel like some kind of predator. Had he paid all that much mind before, when he didn't care one way or another what Steve's sexuality was like? No.

Of course it wasn't as if Steve was some starry-eyed kid in danger of being hurt. He could probably snap Tony's body in half with one hand.

God, that sounded really hot.

The point was, Steve was a full grown man, and Tony was a full grown man, and there was nothing untoward about picturing what Steve would look like if something were to happen to those too-small t-shirts that framed every single muscle in his entire...

No, no, focus. What he meant was that Steve wasn't some innocent kid. He ninety-some years old, a super-soldier, had once punched Hitler in the face or something to that effect.

Once he saw Steve with a bottle of pills and got the bright idea to tease him.

"What's that?" he asked him. "Heart pills? Hair pills? Creaky joint pills?"

Steve gave him a funny look and held up the bottle so he could see the word "venlafaxine" printed on the label. Venlafaxine, he recalled, was the generic name for an anti-depressant. In fact, it had been recommended to him back when he was still struggling with panic attacks. It seemed to be, in fact, a pretty important medication.

Shit. Shit shit shit. He'd done a fuck-up. He should have apologized, but instead he signaled Jarvis for Escape Plan Betta and fled the scene as lab sirens began to blare.

Well, he felt pretty damn low over that. See, he told himself, this is exactly why your father never loved you--which, incidentally, was something people kept getting after him not to say.

He kept an eye on Steve just in case. Steve didn't appear to be overly upset, not that that meant anything. He kept training and reading books and fighting with the toaster oven (which admittedly was very brave of him; even Bruce kept a respectful distance from the toaster oven). He acted very politely toward Tony, but, again, Steve "Centarian Boy Scout" Rogers was polite toward everybody.

He lay awake at night, thinking alternately of how terrible it must be to have lost pretty much any one you ever loved over fifty years ago and of how Steve's biceps were literally the size of Tony's head. It was a dark, confusing time.

Why didn't you just shut your stupid face hole? he asked himself one day in the field, and as he was asking himself this he let go a wayward missile that took out three street lamps and a fire hydrant, honed in on Steve, and, when Steve deflected it with his shield, hit the side of a building directly under Hawkeye's perch, causing him to plummet down and take out Falcon and Black Widow in one go.

"Watch yourself, Tony," Steve warned.

Tony gave him a thumbs up, but inside he was reciting every curse he'd ever learned. And since he knew a sizeable amount of curses, he was still cursing after, as they were all retreating to the Tower.

"Give you a ride, Cap?" Falcon asked, and he realized for the first time that Steve was standing awkwardly at his shoulder. In fact, Steve was trying to tap him on the shoulder but the suit evidently did not think this was important enough to tell him.

"No, thanks." Steve waved, and Sam--after giving Tony one last irritated squint--took off into the sky. "Tony?"

He turned to look at Steve but decided it was probably better to keep his face hole shut this time.

"Give me a lift?"

"Uh..." He checked his GPS and saw that Thor was already half a borough away. He could visually confirm that the large blip on the radar was Hulk, stalking down the street with Black Widow hanging off one arm and Hawkeye hanging off the other. "Sure, I can do that. How do you want to go about..."

Steve had already hopped on his back like a small child.

"Ah. Right. Well, hang on..."

As he took off he stuck an arm out behind himself in case Steve fell, but that too, he decided, was only embarrassing himself. It felt like he was drawing attention to the fact that, hey, Steve, remember that one time you were flying and then you crashed into the arctic and everyone you ever loved grew old and died without you? Well, except for one guy, but he got brainwashed by nazis into working for the other team so...

"Fuck," he said to himself.

"What?"

"Nothing."

They flew in silence for a while. Then Steve propped his chin up on Tony's shoulder and said, "So, as the kids these days say, what's your deal?"

"Kids don't say that."

"Come on, Tony. You've been acting weird around me for weeks. Today you tried to shoot me. Yesterday you hid outside the window to get away from me in the Tower."

"I wouldn't do that."

"Well, then it was somebody else with a bad haircut and $500 shoes hiding out there. What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on, so drop it."

"Look, son, if you're going to have a problem with me..."

"I'm not your son."

Steve stopped talking.

"I don't know why you call me that. Practically you aren't any older than I am. Maybe younger, even."

"Hey, you're the one who says I need hair pills and creaky joint pills."

Steve didn't say it unkindly but it still made him grimace. "Look, I fucked up, okay? It was an asshole thing to say on its own, and then when I realized those were antidepressants you were taking..."

"Is that what this is about? Tony, you aren't obligated to be nice to me. I'm not going to kill myself if you're not."

Oh god, he hadn't even considered that possibility. He really was a piece of crap.

"Tony. I can hear you silently panicking."

"I am not."

"Alright. Here. I forgive you for the hair pills joke, okay? You are hereby cleansed of guilt." Steve made the sign of the cross on the suit. "Next time we see each other, talk about sports or the weather or girls or something. Good enough?"

It wasn't, Tony thought to himself, because it wasn't really Steve's forgiveness he was looking for. But it was good to have all the same... even though Steve was probably lying just to make him feel better.

They struck a bit of turbulence and the suit did a sharp nosedive.

"Sweet Mary mother of gosh," Steve said, and hung on for dear life.

Then again, Tony decided, the hundred year old boy scout would surely never lie. He allowed himself a little smile, and flew on towards home.


End file.
